


The Death (or Eternal Life) of a Martyr

by QZB



Category: Legacies (TV 2018)
Genre: Angst but in a way where you don't recognize how sad it is until it's too late, Character Study, Character death but it doesn't stick don't worry, F/F, Gratitious use of commas, Hope is sad and has a lot of emotions but don't we all, Teen Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-26
Updated: 2019-07-30
Packaged: 2020-07-20 08:10:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19988902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QZB/pseuds/QZB
Summary: After her father dies, Hope tries so hard to be good. If she can be good, maybe she can change her father’s legacy or make his death worth it. She looks at the dark, bubbling pit below her and feels an intrinsic need to do the right thing, even though she’s not totally clear what the right thing is.She’s not sure what she's aiming for but maybe this is it.Maybe this is the time she makes his sacrifice worth it.Hope Mikaelson learns early in her life what a martyr is. Life seems intent on beating her over the head with that lesson, that sometimes people die for what they believe in. It isn't until she's older that she starts to believe that dying for the ones you love might not be such a bad thing.





	1. The Harder The Rain

**Author's Note:**

> Recommended listening: No Plan - Hozier and Let Me Live / Let Me Die - Des Rocs

Hope Mikaelson learns early in her life what a martyr is. She’s really, in a way, surrounded by them. People who will die for what they believe in without doubting themselves.

She becomes one of them. It just takes her a while to realize it.

To be fair, death doesn't quite stick to her family. It rolls off of them like water off a duck's back. On a Thursday, Elijah dies by throwing himself into a fire, and by Friday morning, he's back in the manor in a suit, and the only clue that he had recently died was a slightly haunted look in his eye.

Rebekah chases two men down a dark alley after they try to follow a girl home from a club and even though she dies, she’s back being a watchful protector the next night.

Hope has memories of the martyrs of her life. At least, she thinks they're memories. They could just be her brain trying to make up for lost time, trying to construct a memory of a time that didn’t exist.

Her favorite memory (or hallucination) of Elijah goes like this:

Elijah will often take her hand and let her lead him wherever her childlike wonder takes them. While her father will take her into the forest in search of paints, Elijah lets her take the lead, exploring around the city and the manor with childlike glee. It's on one such adventure around the manor, while she's on shaky toddler legs and he's helping her up the stairs that he suddenly stops. He whips his head around to look behind him as Freya, observing the scene from the ground floor, snaps a photo. He cracks a small smile as Freya gives a sly wave and then goes back to helping Hope climb the stairs. Once they reach the top Hope is totally over the whole thing, so she promptly sits down, feet dangling over the edge of the stairs.

Elijah sits next to her and she leans her head on his tall, solid frame.

Freya snaps another picture of the two of them in a quiet moment of just  _ being. _

Hope doesn't know what happened to that photo but she wishes with everything she is that she still had it. Wishes she could still feel the ghost of his touch, letting her smaller frame lead him around New Orleans. Wishes she could still cling to that childlike joy of just  _ wandering with her favorite person. _

Her mother dies for her, because of her mistake, and her brain still tries to trick her with fake memories. At least, she thinks they’re fake. They might not be. They might just be locked in her subconscious, in a place where she keeps the memories too precious for anyone to see, to dangerous for herself to relive. She holds on to the precious ones she knows are real. She holds onto the mantra that “being kind doesn’t make you weak” like it’s the only thing keeping her afloat. She resolves to be kind, makes her dad promise to try to do the same, and because Klaus Mikaelson can’t say no to his little girl, they pinky-promise on the thing.

The promise lasts until he dies.

She has the faintest memory of a blonde woman, someone who speaks her mind to Klaus Mikaelson, the greatest evil the world has ever seen. Somebody who isn’t afraid of harsh words and confronting the dark history that resides in all men. Hope thinks that maybe that’s what love is, finding the person you’re willing to confront the darkness for. Hayley and Rebekah talk fondly of Cami. Hope resolves to try to confront her own darkness, for her father, for the blonde woman who took no shit from him, for herself.

Her father is not a good man. She knows this - its been repeated time and time again and reinforced in the stories she’s heard and the books she’s read. But he’s never like that with her. With her, he’s more like a scared first-time father. Like the mere fact of her existence terrifies him. 

He’s a man holding something precious in his hands and afraid, more than ever, to ruin it.

There are, of course, people who don’t die for her. There are the members of her family that are probably unable to die, or those who have other things to live for.

Keelin, for example, was always there to cause trouble and helped her make excuses when Freya or Hayley caught them. They were a two-woman wolfpack and boy, did Keelin teach Hope how to get in (and out) of trouble. Freya and Keelin have something special, she knows this, she can tell from the way Freya’s hand always twitches when Keelin is near, like its sole purpose in life was to touch Keelin. She’s ten when she asks Keelin about it, with a point-blank honesty that only a child can muster.

“Why does Aunt Freya touch you so much?”

“Because she likes to remind herself that I’m right here,” comes Keelin’s simple response, a small smile playing across her face.

“Okay, but like actually why?”

“Because at one point in Freya’s very long life, she tried to touch somebody she loved and they weren’t there. So she likes to remind herself that I’m right here, and I’ll always be here.”

“It doesn’t hurt that you’re very pretty and so warm.” Freya’s soft voice comes from behind Hope, startling them both. 

Keelin is the first to recover, holding out a hand to Freya, who takes it and wraps herself around Keelin without a second thought.

Hope wants that someday, wants somebody who would wrap themselves around her without a second thought, somebody who wouldn’t mind that she runs warm, somebody worth living for.

Vincent helps teach her magic sometimes when Freya needs an extra hand. He’s an animated man, full of life, with hands that move as he talks and incantations that sound like dances. Hope doesn’t know why, but one day she asks him about death. She had heard that Aunt Davina died for a while once, and most of her family was technically dead too.

“Death,” he says, with a far off look in his eye, “twists you all up inside.”

He doesn’t speak more on the matter and Hope kind of regrets asking.

When her mother dies, Vincent slips a note under her bedroom door.

_ Mourn, because you cannot move on until you come to terms with your sadness. And though the pain at times will seem more than you can bear, make no mistake, you will be able to move on. _

_ Moving on doesn’t mean forgetting, it means taking one step in front of the other, for as long as it takes for you to feel okay again. _

_ Moving on means seeing your mother in everything you do, because you are Hope Andrea Mikaelson, and you are your mother's daughter. _

_ If vengeance is what you require then know the words of Ecclesiasticus ‘Vengeance as a lion, shall lie in wait’ _

_ Bide your time, strike smart, strike true. _

_ You are a Mikaelson after all. _

Hope understands what he said about death twisting you up now.

Freya has a habit of getting so into her work that she won’t stop to eat, drink, take breaks, or really even realize the world exists outside of the magic she works on. Hope will sometimes linger outside the door of her room and just watch Freya do magic. It's ancient and terrifying if you really think about it, but Hope finds it comforting, like coming home to your favorite book. The aura of it washes over her like a cold wind and she instinctively wraps her arms around herself, tries to warm up.

The movement causes Freya to shake her head, as though coming out of a trance, before looking over to Hope with a smile “Chilly?"

“Why does your magic feel so cold?” Hope cocks her head to the side as she steps further into the room.

Freya hops up, sitting on her desk and pats the spot next to her, summoning a book from across the room. Hope hops up next to her as Freya flips through the book.

They’re silent for a moment until Freya makes a victorious noise.

“Magic always leaves a trace and some supernatural beings can tune into it. As a witch, you can always sense it and since you have the werewolf gene, it manifests in more physical ways like smell. Keelin says my magic is cold, like a forest from the Mikaelson homeland.”

Hope cocks her head to the side, reading the passage and taking in the new information.

“What’s my magic like?”

Freya smiles softly “A little bit like springtime, a fresh start, a… new Hope.”

“You’re really corny, have I ever told you that?”

“You love it, don’t lie.” Freya elbows her softly.

“Mom’s busy, so that means it’s your turn to make lunch.” Hope grins, hopping off the desk and grabbing Freya’s hands to pull her with her. 

Freya goes willingly, but stumbles and falls into Hope’s arms when she tries to stand upright.

“Freya? Aunt Freya?”

“I’m okay, I’m okay just a bit lightheaded after all that.”

“When was the last time you ate? Or drank water?” Hope helps Freya over to a chair, runs down to the kitchen to grab a glass of water.

“Just a little bit ago, at eight a.m. when I had breakfast” Freya tries to justify herself as she downs the water.

“Freya… it’s two p.m.”

“Two? Shit, that means Keelin will be-”

“Keelin will be what?”

Both of the Mikaelson’s look up to see Keelin standing in the doorway, arms crossed.

Freya looks from Keelin to Hope and back to Keelin before standing up. “Hope, why don’t you just go order lunch, my purse is downstairs.”

Hope nods and hurries out of the room, brushing past Keelin as she does so.

Hope has seen lots of different kinds of love in her life, but nothing warms her heart quite as much as Keelin saving Freya from herself.

The memory of Keelin smiling and giving Freya half her lunch is one that Hope unexpectedly treasures, one that she keeps in the part of her mind reserved for sad nights and reminding herself that love exists.

Aunt Freya said her magic was a bit like springtime, like a fresh start. Well, going to the Salvatore School was supposed to be a fresh start away from all of the martyrdom and darkness. It makes sense then, in a sadly ironic way, that going to the Salvatore School gives Hope a reason to become a martyr herself. 

She embraces the darkness within herself and snaps Landon’s neck before she looks into the dark pit beneath her. 

Maybe it was always supposed to end this way, but the voice in the back of her head who sounds suspiciously like her mother says, “live.”

The other voice in her head, the one that sounds like her father, says, “make sure  _ she _ can live.”

Even though she knows she’s just in the company of a dead man, Hope can’t help but look around, because did those words conjure that image?  _ Why did she just think of blonde hair, blue eyes, and a sharp tongue? _

She’s been trying to get a better hold on her feelings, but she is still an emotionally-constipated teenager, so she keeps trying to fend off the emotions she  _ knows _ would come if she let herself think of them.

Because she despises Lizzie Saltzman. Until she doesn’t.

She hates Lizzie Saltzman until her feelings get all mixed up, jumbled, and confused.

At first, she just sees the sneering comments, the bitchy banter, and the disregard for anyone not in Lizzie’s inner circle. 

Later, when she’s not sure how she feels about the girl (that feeling in her gut is probably closer to indigestion than it is to hatred now), she notices the softness when Lizzie helps a young witch with correct her runes, the sarcastic streak a mile wide, and the way she defends MG from a wolf who makes it his business to insult the kind vampire.

(If that wolf wakes up on a mattress in the middle of the lake the next morning, there's no way for him to prove it was Hope.)

(The grin on Lizzie's face as she watches him doggy-paddle back to shore makes the lecture Hope receives from Dr. Saltzman later so, so worth it.)

  
  


After her father dies, Hope tries so hard to be good. If she can be good, maybe she can change her father’s legacy or make his death worth it or  _ something.  _

She looks at the dark, bubbling pit below her and feels an intrinsic need to do the right thing, even though she’s not totally clear what the right thing is.

She’s not sure what she's aiming for but maybe this is it. 

Maybe this is the time she makes his sacrifice worth it.

She thinks of the martyrs of her life, sacrificing themselves so that she may live.

Thinks of the people she can save. Thinks of the wide smiles from MG, the twinkling laughter of Josie, the affectionate eye rolls from Lizzie.

Then she just stops thinking.

And she jumps.

She jumps into the darkness of Malivore, becoming one of the martyrs her life is measured by. 


	2. Honey

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No, it's not a mistake.

Sometimes, the martyr lives.


	3. The Sweeter The Sun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Returning home is a process.

Magic, if done often enough or with enough strength, has a sort of imprint that hangs around. It’s not an exact science by any means, just a sort of _feeling_ that you get if you look into it hard enough. Keelin was the first one to properly explain the concept to her, after that morning scare with Freya. After that, she got in the habit of seeking out the magical auras of people or places, just to feel what it was like. To get that rush of recognition, a new feeling every time. 

Aunt Freya’s magic is a tall, ancient forest, with unspeakable viking myths around every corner, the smell of open air and fresh pine, the threat of snow always on the horizon.

Davina’s magic was bright, airy, like falling off of a New York City skyscraper, but having no fear of hitting the ground. 

Lizzie Saltzman’s magic had a sort of bitter taste to it, like it never forgot that it was stolen, borrowed, reshaped, and reformed.

Josie’s magic, on the other hand, was bold and felt like old knowledge come to life again.

Malivore has no magical aura. It’s a distinctly medium space. It’s not too cold or too warm, not comfortable but not uncomfortable. It feels a little bit like a hospital.

In short, it fucking sucks.

Being in Malivore might be the shittiest thing ever, tied only with getting _barfed_ out of Malivore.

One moment she’s in darkness, telling Clarke to _shut the fuck up already! My god, you’re making hell more unbearable than it needs to be_ and the next she’s laying in a field in Georgia, bright sunlight shining down on her.

She’s picked up by a kind old man and his daughter in a pickup truck. They take her as far as a truck stop in Charlotte and she promises that she’s meeting her dad there soon. 

She calls the Salvatore School, because that’s the only number she can remember and the phone is picked up by Lizzie Saltzman, of all people.

“Thanks for calling the Salvatore School, how can I help you?” She answers, only sounding slightly bored. 

Hope smiles a little bit over the phone because it’s so _good_ to hear a friendly voice, even if it is the superficial mask Lizzie puts on for most of the world.

“Lizzie, hey, is Dr. Saltzman available?”

“I- I didn’t tell you my name. Care to tell me yours?”

“Hope.”

There’s silence on the line for so long that Hope thinks Lizzie might have hung up on her.

“You going by Marshall or Mikaelson this time around?”

She nearly cries from happiness as she faintly hears Lizzie ask for her location. 

“Uh Charlotte, the…” she trails off as she looks out the window to see the actual name of the place she’s at. “I don’t actually know the name of the place. I’m sorry, if you give me literally three seconds I can grab it but there’s somebody else waiting for this phone and I don’t have any money on me, so I only have this one call.”

“Hope?”

“Yes?”

“Shut up”

“I- What?”

“I’m trying to track you but your inability to shut up when you’re nervous, however cute it may be, is incredibly distracting.”

Hope falls silent, her mind running a mile a minute. _However cute it may be, she called you cute, she thinks the thing you do is cute, she remembers you, how does she remember you?_

“Lizzie?”

There’s no verbal response, just a slight hum of acknowledgement from Lizzie.

“How do you remember me? I jumped into a pit whose only job was to erase memories.”

“Malivore erases things from existing as fact, but you were still there, so it made clear memories seem like a dream. Some things can’t be erased, like photos, videos, or diaries. It wasn’t hard to put two and two together. Welcome to the post-digital age, Hope Mikaelson.”

Something about that statement strikes her as odd, but she files it away for later and shrugs.

“Perfect.” 

Lizzie’s voice startles her when it comes back. “I’ve got your location down, Dad’s taking the emergency phone and coming to get you. Do you need anything else or should I leave you to pass the next eight hours at a truck stop in peace?”

“I…” Hope glances around the nearly empty truck stop. “I think I’ll be fine, just bored.”

“So steal a phone, call me back.”

“What?”

“Buy one, steal one, same difference really.”

“You’re a bad influence on me, Lizzie Saltzman.”

From the other end of the line Lizzie scoffs and Hope can hear as she leans away from the mouthpiece to talk to somebody else before returning. “Well, if you decide to become the rebel that you try to make everyone think you are, call me back okay? I’ll be working the office the rest of the day and lord knows you’re bound to be the most entertaining thing to happen.”

“That’s almost a compliment, Saltzman.”

“Don’t hold your breath for another one, Mikaelson.”

Hope hangs up the phone and hangs out around the truck stop for a while. It’s not so bad really. She buys a hot dog, reads a birding guide to North Carolina, twice. When she looks at the clock after what she _thinks_ is an hour, she finds that only 30 minutes have passed.

She ends up buying a phone.

They talk for six hours about anything and everything. Saying “they talk” is generous, mainly it’s Lizzie talking, filling Hope in on everything that happened in the four months she was in Malivore.

“There was an accident in the forest over summer break, Dorian almost died.”

“Is he okay?”

“Well, he’s a vampire now so he did literally _die_.”

“You probably should’ve led with that.”

“Penelope Park came back,” a pause as Lizzie seems to spit out the word,“finally.”

“I bet Josie’s happy about that”

“I… I think I’m happy too, if it makes Josie happy.”

“That’s almost emotionally mature of you, I’m very impressed.”

“Okay my dad just texted me, he should be there within the hour.”

“Thank god, I’m so ready to be out of North Carolina.”

“I’ve actually always wanted to visit.”

“I’ll bring you back someday.”

“That sounds dangerously like you actually want to hang out with me, Mikaelson.”

“Maybe I do, Saltzman.”

Reconnecting with Alaric is a little awkward, but the hug he sweeps Hope into feels like coming home _._ It feels like she made the right choice in jumping into Malivore to save everyone. Even if she only bought them time, and how much, she isn’t sure, but even if they are just living on borrowed time until the next big catastrophe, maybe more time spent on the phone with girls who called her cute and whose magic tingles her senses is time well spent. 

The first person to approach her when they return to the Salvatore School is MG. Everybody else looks at her like she’s a leper, like she’s contagious with something they don’t want to catch, but MG bounds up to her immediately, wrapping her into a hug.

She doesn’t quite hug back before he sets her back down and backs off quickly.

“I’m so sorry that was very non-consensual. Are you okay? I’m just really excited you’re back,” he rattles off, rapid fire. 

“So how was Malivore? Do you remember all of us? Oh my god, what if you don’t know my name? Holy shit, I’m so sorry! Let me introduce myself! I’m Milton Greasley, but please just call me MG. We were kinda friends before you jumped into a pit because you were the only one who would talk to me about-”

“Comic books. Green Lantern is your favorite, I prefer the Watchmen. We have a standing deal to watch Batman v. Superman at least once a month because it’s dumb superhero fun.” Hope breaks into the boy’s rapid speech with a soft smile.

MG pauses to take a breath and breaks out into the most brilliant grin. “Yeah. It’s good to have you back Hope.”

Josie waits a little longer to approach her, waits until Hope is in her room unpacking before softly knocking on the door.

"Hey Josie." Hope says, without looking up.

"I'm glad you're back."

"I'm glad to be back."

"She’s glad you’re back too.”

Hope smiles sadly. “She has a funny way of showing it.”

Josie sighs and puts both her hands on Hope’s shoulders, forcing her to turn around and look at her. “She was the first one to realize something was wrong. It’s just a little weird for her to know something is missing versus being confronted by it.”

Hope’s face must show her befuddlement because Josie cracks a smile. “Oh my god, you’re hopeless.”

“No, I’m Hope.”

“She literally talked to you for _six hours_ yesterday. She won’t even talk to me on the phone for longer than she has to.”

“She probably just felt sorry for me, you know after I got stuck in an all-encompassing shit pit for four months. I mean, why else would she talk to me for six hours and then not come up to me when I finally get home?”

“Because she has a crush on you.”

Hope stares blankly at Josie for what seems like forever before a small grin finally breaks across her face. “Really?”

Josie’s eyebrows skyrocket and she lets out a loud laugh. “Oh my god, you’re both idiots. You’re perfect for each other.”

“Shut up! I mean, don’t shut up, actually tell me everything. Does she really like me?”

Josie shakes her head. “She’s down by the lake, so why don’t you go ask her yourself?”

“Are you, of all people, encouraging me to confront my emotions? You? The girl who burned down my room in order to avoid confronting me about emotions?”

Josie just rolls her eyes. “That’s ancient history and you know it. Don’t be a dick, just go talk to her.”

Still, she puts off talking to Lizzie until nightfall. Perhaps she waits to gather the courage she knows she should have. She can fight monsters and claw her way back out of that terrible excuse for a mudbath, so talking to a girl about feelings should be easy, right?

Josie informs her that Lizzie is still by the lake, probably skipping stones and angering the fish.

“A little bird told me I could find you here,” Hope calls out as she approaches the blonde.

There’s no response from Lizzie, just another rock flying out from her hand and skimming across the lake surface before dropping beneath the soft waves.

Hope attempts to walk closer, but is stopped by a magical barrier. She puts a hand on it and feels the faint bitter taste she’s come to associate with Lizzie’s magic. She concentrates for a moment and busts through the barrier just as Lizzie turns around.

“I-uh, wanted to talk to you and the barrier was in the way,” Hope stutters out.

“Are you in the habit of breaking through walls that clearly exist for a reason?” Lizzie sighs, turning away from Hope and resuming her rock skipping.

“I’m in the habit of apparently sticking my foot in places it doesn’t belong, both in my mouth and Malivore. Can we talk?” Hope opts to sit a fair distance from Lizzie and grabs a few rocks of her own.

She attempts to throw one, but it sinks beneath the waves with a disappointing _plop_.

“Never skipped rocks before?”

“Not a lot of lake time in Malivore actually.”

“You’re holding it all wrong, here,” Lizzie leans over, corrects Hope wrist so it’s more sideways, and loosens up her grip on the rock. “The trick is to throw less, flick more.”

Hope flicks the rock out from her hand, getting a solid two skips before it sinks.

Lizzie flicks one right after, skipping it four times before it sinks as well.

“You cheated, there’s no way you got it to go four times naturally!” Hope exclaims.

“Couple of things. One, I used all my magic doing a barrier that you so elegantly tore down. Two, I haven’t siphoned since this morning so there’s no way I would have enough left to cheat. And three, you’re just mad you’re bad at skipping rocks.” Lizzie smiles softly, looking deliberately forward so as to not make eye contact with Hope during her statement.

Hope narrows her eyes. “Do it again then.”

Lizzie picks up another rock, lines up her shot, and skips it across the water a total of five times before it surrenders to the waves.

“Show-off.”

“Only when I’m trying to one-up you.”

They don’t talk much for the rest of the night, but as they part ways in the halls of school Lizzie sweeps Hope into a hug that feels _right._

“I’m glad you’re back,” the blonde whispers into her ear before disappearing into her own room.

“I think I’m gonna do something stupid,” Hope says, three days after her return to the Salvatore School.

“You’re finally gonna ask my sister out?” Josie asks, not looking up from her book.

Hope doesn’t respond, already halfway out of the room and heading towards the place she’s pretty sure Lizzie will end up at some point.

She ends up waiting at the lake for two hours before Lizzie calls her name.

“Hey Hope, a little bird told me that you were looking for me.”

“What else did the little bird say?”

“She said you were going to do something stupid, but I feel like I can handle that.”

Hope stands up and suddenly she’s much too close to Lizzie, who is looking at her with amusement in her clear blue eyes and a slight smile on her face.

“I- I was uh-”

“Hope?”

“Yeah?”

“Shut up.”

And then Lizzie Saltzman is kissing her.

  
  


A martyr isn’t something Hope Mikaelson planned on becoming, but sitting on a couch, arms wrapped around Lizzie as she talks about something that makes her eyes light up while Josie rolls her eyes and MG defends Rorschach as a good superhero name (when it's clearly not) cements something inside of her.

It’s the part of her that tells her she would do anything for these people. 

It’s the part that she thinks her mother would be proud of, that her father would look at with approval.

Maybe she can’t change the martyrs or the darkness in her life but maybe she can find something to live for (something to die for).

And maybe that’s enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...and that's it! Yell at me for that second chapter all you'd like but it was worth it in the end. Thanks for reading and keeping up with it and loving this fic as much as I do!

**Author's Note:**

> Special thanks to Alex for editing this and interrupting her face mask for me, and thanks to Liz who, immediately upon hearing this idea, said "oh SHIT THAT'S GOOD"
> 
> Follow me on Twitter @WhoopsItsGay


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